"Where's Buchanan?" he asked.
"Actually dozing, I think. I never came close."
"Tell me about it." He finished packing and closed his bag.
"Are you sure you don't want me to come with you?" she asked.
He shook his head. "I don't want you anywhere near this guy and his goons if they show up. I got through to Renee last night. First time I've talked to her in I don't know how long and I have to tell her she might be the target of some psycho because of something her stupid dad did."
"How did she take it?"
On this Lee brightened. "Actually, she seemed happy to hear from me. I didn't tell her everything that was going on. I didn't want to panic her too much, but I think she's looking forward to seeing me."
"I'm glad to hear that. I'm really happy for you, Lee."
"The cops at least took my call seriously. Renee said a patrolman came by and a marked car's been cruising the area."
He put his bag down, took her hand. "I don't feel good about leaving you."
"It's your daughter. We'll be fine. You heard Danny. He's got this person over a barrel."
Lee looked unconvinced. "The last thing you should do right now is let down your guard. The car will be here at eight to take you and Buchanan to the plane. You head back to D.C."
"And then what?"
"Go to a motel in the suburbs. Register under a false name and then call me on my cell phone. AS soon as things are okay with Renee I'll head back. I already talked it over with Buchanan. He's in agreement."
"And then?" Faith persisted.
"Let's just take it a step at a time. I told you there are no guarantees in this."
"I was actually talking about us."
Lee played with the strap on his bag. "Oh," was all that came out, and it sounded idiotic.
"I see."
"You see what?" Lee demanded.
"Wham, bam, thank you, ma'am."
"Where do you get off thinking like that? Don't you know what kind of a man I am by now?"
"Actually, I thought I did. But I guess I forgot. You're in the loner group: sex only for fun. Right?"
"Why are we doing this? Like we don't have enough going on. We can talk about it later. It's not like I'm not coming back."
Lee didn't mean to put her off, but-hell, why couldn't she see there was no time for this right now?
Faith sat down on the bed.
"Like you said, no guarantees," she said.
He put a hand on her shoulder. "I am coming back, Faith. I didn't come this far to desert you now."
"Okay," was all she said. She stood and gave him a quick hug. "Please, please, be careful."
Faith let him out the rear door. As she turned to go back in, Lee's gaze was riveted on her. He took in everything, from the bare feet to the short dark hair and all points in between. For one troubling moment, he wondered if this was the last time he would ever see her.
Lee climbed on the Honda and quickly started up the bike.
* * *
As Lee roared out of the driveway and hit the street, Brooke Reynolds raced back to the Crown Vie and threw open the door. Breathless, she looked inside.
"Shit, I knew the minute I left the car to get a closer look at the house this would happen. He must have come out a rear door. He didn't even turn on the carport light. I never saw him until the bike cranked up. So what do we do? House or the bike?"
Connie looked down the road. "Adams is already out of sight. And that bike is a lot more agile than this tank."
"I guess that leaves the house and Lockhart."
Connie suddenly looked worried. "We're presuming she's still inside.
In fact, we don't even know if she was ever inside."
"Shit, I knew you were going to say that. She damn well better be. If we just let Adams go and Lockhart isn't in that house, I will swim to England. And you're going to have to be right beside me. Come on, Connie, we have to go in the house."
Connie climbed out of the car, pulled his gun and looked around nervously. "Shit, I don't like this. It could be a setup. We could be walking right into an ambush. And we've got no backup."
"We don't have much choice, do we?"
"All right, but dammit, Stay behind me."
They headed for the house.
CHAPTER 50
DRESSED IN BLACK SWEATS AND TENNIS SHOES, the three men raced along the beach, keeping low to the sand. Although the dawn was fast approaching, they were virtually invisible in their dark clothing against the backdrop of the ocean, and the pounding surf covered all sounds of their movements.
They had arrived in the area barely an hour ago and had just received some very disturbing news. Lee Adams had left the house. Lockhart wasn't with him. She must still be in the house. Or at least they hoped she was. Buchanan, they had been told, might be there as well.
They would take those two over Adams. He could wait. They would eventually get him. In fact, they would not stop until they got him.
Each team member was equipped with an automatic pistol and a knife specially designed to take out the carotid in one efficient stroke.
Each man was well skilled in exactly how to execute just such a lethal blow. Their orders were clear. Everyone in the house had to die.
Perfectly executed, it could be a clean operation. They could be back in Washington by late morning.
They were proud men, professionals in their own right and long in the service of Robert Thornhill. As a team they had survived some dangerous times in the last twenty years with their wit, skill, physical strength and stamina. They had saved lives, made certain parts of the world safer, helped to ensure that the United States would become the world's sole remaining superpower. This would mean a fairer, more just world for many. Like Robert Thornhill, they had joined the Agency to perform a service, to engage in a public trust. To them, there was no higher calling.
All three men were also part of the group Lee and Faith had eluded at Adams's apartment. The episode had embarrassed them, tarnishing their reputation for near perfection. They had been hoping for a shot at redemption, and now they did not intend to waste it.
One man stayed near the top of the stairs to keep watch, while the other two hurried down the boardwalk to the rear of the house. The plan was simple, direct, unencumbered by layers of detail. They would hit the house hard and fast, starting on the ground floor and moving up. When they ran into anyone, they wouldn't ask questions or seek identification. Their suppressor-equipped pistols would fire one time for each victim, and then they would move on until every living thing in the house no longer was. Yes, it was definitely conceivable they could be back in Washington before lunch.
CHAPTER 51
LEE SLOWED DOWN THE HONDA AND THEN STOPPED in the middle of the road, his feet coming down lightly on the asphalt. He looked back over his shoulder. The street was long, black and empty. Daylight would be coming soon, though. He could see it in the softening edges of the sky, like the streaked edges of a Polaroid slowly lapping to vibrancy.
So why couldn't he have waited? He could have stayed until the car came to take Faith and Buchanan to the airstrip. It would only delay his trip to Charlottesville by a couple of hours at most. And it would certainly increase his peace of mind. Why the hell was he running away so fast? Renee was protected. What about Faith?
His gloved hand tapped against the Honda's throttle. It would also give him a chance to talk to the woman, to let Faith know that he cared very much for her.
He turned the Honda around and headed back. When he reached the street, he slowed the bike. The car was parked at the far end of the street. It was a big sedan that just screamed federal government.
True, it was at the opposite end of the street and he wouldn't have passed it heading to the main road, but how the hell had his "expert" eyes missed that? God, was he really getting that old?
He drove directly at the car, figuring that if it was the Feds, he could cut off easily enough and lose them. As he drew closer,
however, it was clear the car was empty. Starting to panic, he swung the Honda around, rode up into the driveway of the beach house two lots down from Faith's and jumped off. Throwing down his helmet and pulling his pistol, Lee raced around to the rear courtyard of the house and then on to the boardwalk that crisscrossed the rear common areas connecting all the houses to the main steps going to the beach, like human veins leading to the heart's arteries. His own heart was pumping at a feverishly high pace.
He jumped off the boardwalk, squatted low behind some saw grass and peered at the back of Faith's beach house. What he saw chilled him to the bone. The two men were dressed all in black and were sliding over the rear wall of Faith's courtyard. Were they the Feds? Or were they the men who had been prepared to assassinate Faith at the airport?
Please, God, don't let it be them. The two men had already disappeared over the wall. In seconds they would be in the house. Had Faith reset the alarm system after she let him out? No, he thought, she probably hadn't.
Lee jumped up and dashed toward the house. As he crossed the boardwalk, he sensed something coming at him from the left as the darkness began to lift even more. That sensation was probably the only thing that saved his life.
The knife plunged into his arm instead of his neck as he ducked and rolled. He came up bleeding, but the rigid material of the bike suit had absorbed a good deal of the blow. His attacker didn't hesitate but leaped straight at him.
However, Lee timed it just right, managed to raise his good arm, pushed hard, levered the man over him, throwing him into the saw grass which was about as unpleasant as having a sharp knife driven into your flesh.
Lee lunged for his gun, which he had lost when the guy had slammed into him. Lee had no qualms about shooting the guy down and raising a ruckus. Right now he would welcome any assistance the local police cared to provide.
His opponent made a stunning recovery, however, bursting out of the saw grass with startling velocity and colliding with Lee before he could retrieve his pistol. The two men landed at the edge of the steps. Lee saw the knife thrust coming again but was able to grip the man's wrist before the blade hit him. The guy was strong; Lee could feel the steely tendons in the man's forearm and in the rocklike triceps as he grabbed the man's upper arm in an attempt to force the knife out of his hand. But Lee wasn't exactly a weakling either. He hadn't shoved tons of barbells around for years for nothing.
The guy he was battling was an experienced fighter as well because he managed to get in two or three efficient gut punches with his free hand. After the first one, though, Lee tightened his abdominals and obliques and felt little pain from the other jabs. He had spent over two decades doing stomach crunches and having medicine balls slammed into his belly. After that punishment, the human fist offered very little difficulty for him, no matter how hard it was thrown.
Thinking that two could play at that game, Lee let go of the man's upper arm and landed a body uppercut to the diaphragm. He felt the wind go out of the guy, but the grip on the knife remained unbroken.
Then Lee landed three successful kidney punches, about the most painful ones you could throw and still leave your opponent conscious. The knife fell from the man's hand, clattering down the steps.
Then both men rose to their feet, breathing hard, still clinging to each other. Like a burst of wind, the man executed a nifty loop kick that knocked Lee's legs out from under him. He went